


Organa Castle

by PotentiallyLovely



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crylo Ren, F/M, Hints of Bluebeard, Rey is not putting up with this shit, Romantic-era Emo, Victorian era, gothic romance AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotentiallyLovely/pseuds/PotentiallyLovely
Summary: Rey answers an ad in the hopes of becoming a paid lady's companion. The brooding, possibly mad, man that she finds instead may save her life. Or be the end of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Gothic Romance AU complete with crumbling castles, black cats, and mysterious locked doors. I don't mean to deter anybody from reading this, but I've never done this before. So please be patient with me (and send encouragement!)

18XX-,

_Reya_

_Rey_

_Reya May Smith_

_Rey Anne Smith?_

_Rey Anne Smith_

That could work.

It would have to work.

Rey had been walking for a little over three hours. Three miserable, chilly hours. But they couldn’t compare to the past week of travel. She had managed to take a train a large portion of the distance between London and Glasgow. Unable to afford another ticket she had made the rest of the trip on foot; sleeping in church yards, rationing bread, and attempting not to dirty her only dress. She had stopped that morning to bathe herself in a stream but couldn’t afford to wet the dress in such freezing weather. It reminded her of another grueling journey that felt a lifetime ago.

The forest path serpentined, following the natural curvature of the land, making it impossible to see far enough ahead to judge the remaining distance to the manor. Organa Manor. Supposedly there was a lady in need of a paid companion there. A Miss B. Solo. Rey wondered what her given name might be. Bridgette? Beatrix? She understood why the name had been left out of the short newspaper advertisement. Individual letters were more expensive than one would imagine. Rey had been setting the type in a mindless automaton fashion when the nature of the advertisement caught her attention.

WANTED IMMEDIATELY

PAID COMPANION

B. SOLO

And below the address of an “Organa Manor”.

A wild impulse overtook Rey at that moment. The same impulsiveness that had aided her survival throughout the years. Sometimes it was necessary to let instinct take over and damn the consequences.

Oh the consequences.

If this venture failed, she had no idea what she would do. She had written down the information and abruptly quit her post at _The London Bugle_ , a post that had provided for her meager existence for two years. Rey had bought a train ticket that night and prayed she would arrive before the position was filled. She couldn’t believe the advertisement existed at all. A well-to-do family in a _manor_ should have had enough connections to quietly hire a suitable spinster without the excess effort. Maybe the girl was quite difficult, and they had needed to extend their search? Maybe she wasn’t a girl at all? But an aging Madame in need of extensive care. Rey didn’t care either way.

A position as a lady’s companion would mean a home, rather than a floor. Regular meals, rather than bread. Always bread. And she could save her wages. Save until the next time she makes an impulsive reckless decision and must find her way cross-country _again_. She just prayed that the position would still exist when she arrived. _If she ever arrived._

Rey’s breath came in misty puffs, almost panting from the exertion. She clasped her bare hands under her arms in defense against the biting winter air. Her dress was a blessedly thick wool. New, bought in Glasgow in the hopes of appearing more professional to her potential employers. She imagined a dreary dark grey would give a matronly enough impression. If not the dress, then the low chignon should do the job. She didn’t have curling tongs to accomplish any sort of flattering updo.

The trees seemed to stretch into eternity. Softly falling snow further obscured her view, but the flakes were too sparse and still melted upon hitting the ground. The setting sun bathed the scene in a warm tangerine glow before transitioning to a soft lilac.

_Finally_

Ahead, the trees began to disappear. The once lush carpet of grass and foliage had dried and curled in on itself. Rey could see dense patches of lifeless wildflowers and bushes. A bit further still stood the manor. If one could call it that. It appeared to be an old highland castle rather than the sprawling mansion she had expected. A sinking feeling began in her stomach. Several of the narrow windows contained jagged glass, no doubt the snow would slip in and ruin furnishings. Evergreen ivy crept along walls and several crumbling bricks lay scattered around the property. As she trudged the remaining distance uphill, it became apparent that there was a loch a small way beyond the rear of the castle. It had already frozen over.

The arched wooden door grew and grew as Rey approached it. Soon it was towering over her with the heavy iron door knocker almost eye level. The doorway was inset and blocked the little remaining light. None could be seen below the door. Her time had come. Her last hope.

She knocked.

And waited. No movement. No sound. She waited.

Then knocked again.

If nobody arrived soon, Rey would have to reconcile herself to the fact that the occupants must have moved on to more appropriate dwellings. She twisted her aching fingers and bit her chapped lips.

_Please…_

There. Sound. A tumbler? A bar being moved? No matter. The ancient door creaked open and revealed a tall, well dressed, red-haired man. One brow rose sardonically and began to turn away.

“Hello,” discarding all decency, Rey shoved her foot in the door, “I’m here for the companion position. Mister…?”

“Hux.” Mr. Hux’s demeanor changed almost instantly. A smile unfurled slowly and he dipped his head in an almost polite manner, “This is quite unconventional, Miss…?”

“Smith. Miss Rey Smith. So pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Hux.”

 Without further pleasantry, Mr. Hux stepped to the side, “Please do come out of the cold and we may discuss our possibilities.”

Rey did not like the way he had said “possibilities”. She was sure there was some joke at her expense but could not imagine what it might be after such little interaction. Nevertheless, she stepped inside and forged on, “I have experience with charges both young and old. I’m familiar with reading, writing, and mathematics. I can perform household tasks and am rather good with curling tongs if your lady should need help-” At this Mr. Hux could contain himself no longer and a sharp bark of laughter escaped. Rey paused, unsure if she should continue.

“Please excuse me Miss Smith,” he straightened his waistcoat, “but there seems to be some misunderstanding. This position was to be in service of a young master, not a miss. Curling tongs will not be necessary.”

“A-a master? Sir?”

“Indeed Miss Smith. A Mister Ben Solo.”

Rey’s heart clenched in her bosom and her blood seemed to drain to her toes, leaving a numb detachment in its place. “But the paper? The advertisement said-“

“I apologize Miss, but anyone familiar with the Peerage would be aware of the identity of a B. Solo.” The blood from her toes rushed back to her cheeks. Of course she’d been unaware of the Peerage and its complex relations. She wasn’t Quality, and her ignorance verified that. What a disaster. Mr. Hux gently led her to a sitting room and assisted her to a faded icy blue settee. _So very similar to his cold eyes_ her brain offhandedly noticed. “Unfortunately, for the sake of propriety, I cannot offer you this position,” he gestured to the rapidly darkening window behind her seat, “but I also cannot turn you out into this weather, and especially the night. Please feel free to stay for the evening and I will assist you in your return to the village come morning.”

At the very least, staying would mean shelter for one more night before she renewed her search in the morning. What could it hurt?

_It was only one night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the late 1880's to 1890's. I have tried to be as accurate as possible, googling all of the modern home accessories, hygiene practices, and even dog tags. So please excuse any anachronisms that still manage to slip through.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Rey had agreed to remain overnight, Mr. Hux offered her a brief tour of the lower levels of the manor.

Or castle. Rey couldn’t decide what it was.

The inside of the castle had been slowly being renovated for the past three decades he had explained. The late Lady Leia Solo had unexpectedly inherited the land after the tragic death of her entire family, and then married a Mister Han Solo. His inferior rank made her ladyship a courtesy title and prevented their son, Ben Solo from becoming an inherited peer. The entire atmosphere of the home had a strange sense of incongruity. Newly installed water closets, indoor water heating, and lavish furniture existed alongside shattered windows, dangling cobwebs, and shredded curtains. The situation made Rey decidedly uncomfortable, but the early winter night and snow were enough incentive to continue.

“Excuse me sir.” Rey came to a stop within a hall of portraits, “I’m sorry to pry, but why does the gentleman need a companion? I’ve never heard of such an arrangement.”

Mr. Hux let out a deep sigh and shook his head with a pained expression, “The young master has been… unwell since the death of his parents.” He turned to regard a portrait of a young brunette woman on the wall. “I am the solicitor of this property and have some minor control, but I cannot overrule his decisions. Decisions that have become progressively more reckless. The most recent was the dismissal of all the household staff. I had hoped that I may hire someone to help _supervise_ him, for lack of a better term.”

“I see.” It seemed such an inadequate phrase and she wasn’t sure it was true. How could she understand the pain of a wealthy young man losing his parents? She whom had never known hers? She knew they had called her Rey, and that was the only scrap of information she had ever had to cling to.

He offered to assist in bringing in her trunks and Rey had to admit that she had no other possessions.

She wondered if he had realized this and only asked for his own amusement.

Rey was led to the kitchens and Mr. Hux took his leave, encouraging her to enjoy as much as she would like. There would be more than enough supplies with only two permanent residents. She searched the larder and storeroom. Fortunately, there was indeed a surplus of food. Unfortunately, they were primarily ingredients that would need further preparation to eat. She settled on an apple and a wedge of cheese. It was the easiest fare she could manage at this point in the evening. It was still more than she had been accustomed to throughout her life.

*

The bedroom Rey had been directed to for the night was on the first floor. Customarily, the staff would sleep on higher levels where the cold would trickle in and cling to the inhabitants throughout the night. This room appeared to have belonged to one of the long succession of ladies hanging in the portrait hall. A light coating of dust had settled across the plush carpets, bedding, and curtains. Unlike the rest of the house, this room seemed to be in comparatively good condition. It must have only been left alone once the housekeepers had been dismissed.

Rey shook out the comforter and pillows, but otherwise left the room untouched. Including the fireplace. Instead she used a match to light three half-used candles left in a candelabra. In the soft glow, she began to remove her new dress, struggling at the long row of buttons down her spine. How often in this world is a woman completely alone? With no mothers, sisters, children, or a husband to do something as simple as help her with buttons? Maybe these complicated trappings are to punish women like her. Indecent girls that sleep next to printing presses and barge into crumbling ruins. Rey is accustomed to being alone, but the deathly silence of the countryside was deeply unsettling.

She laid her charcoal dress across the foot of the large canopied bed. Usually, she would stay in her outergarments if she were sharing a space, but on the rare occasion she had any privacy she would sleep in her shift and let her spine bend without the restrictions of a corset. Even in the dim lighting of the candles, Rey could see how filthy her undergarments were. It felt wrong to sully such a beautiful bed, the first real bed she’d ever experienced, but the idea of stretching naked beneath the covers felt even more degrading. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed and Rey began to sift through it, hoping for a shift. That’s all she needed.

She found much more. The trunk was full of luxurious silks and clean white cotton shifts, nightgowns, robes, sashes, and slippers. Rey layered the plainest of each over her thin frame. The shift and cotton gown hung loosely on her and she felt ridiculous engulfed in so much fabric. Even so, she consoled herself with the feeling of warmth and cleanliness that she had experienced so seldom. She unpinned her hair from its tight knot and let it unfurl around her shoulders.

Rey began to blow out the candles one by one. A second before she was going to blow out the last, the back of her neck prickled under the watch of unseen eyes. She froze and peered into the darkness. Waited. And from an impenetrably dark corner of the room-

A cat. A black cat, eyes reflecting in the void of its body, emerged.

“Oh, OH-h-h-h,” Rey’s breath came out in shaky spurts of relieved laughter, “hello there.” She couldn’t help the grin that split her face from ear to ear. She had always loved friendly strays. Using the remaining candle, she relit the other two. Rey crouched and extended her hand, fingers splayed, and just out of reach of the cat’s nose. “Hello baby.” The cat sniffed her fingers before pushing its head under her palm and began to purr. Delighted, Rey scooped it up and plopped onto the bed with her back against the headboard. The candelabra glowed on the nightstand beside her and in the light, she could see that the plump cat had gray fur speckled throughout its muzzle.

“A grumpy old man.” Rey furrowed her brow and pursed her lips playfully at the unamused cat. A shimmer caught her attention and she felt through his abundant fur until catching on a collar and tag. It was hard to see in the hazy candlelight, but the tag read _NANNY_. “I see, an austere Miss instead.” She placed the ball of fluff beside her on the bed and leaned over to blow out all of the candles a final time. She settled beneath the covers and closed her eyes.

And opened them again. She wanted to enjoy this so badly. Not only a real mattress, but clean sheets, and nightclothes. There was a cat curled against her side. This should be perfect.

But anxiety bloomed in her chest, turning her heart to lead. What was she going to do when she’s forced to leave tomorrow? Without money for travel she’d need to find work in town. She’ll-

A moan in the dark. Or a groan. It doesn’t matter which. Somewhere in the castle, someone was making pitiful sounds, echoing through the silent stone halls. A shiver ran down Rey’s spine and she desperately wanted to bring her fists to her ears or burrow beneath the pillows. The cries sometimes paused and began again, ebbing with the movement of whoever it was in the castle. _Mr. Solo,_ the logical portion of her brain supplied. _The young master has been… unwell,_ Mr. Hux had told her. Rey turned her face into her pillow and prayed it would end soon. Surely Mr. Hux would attend to him and this would end.

But it didn’t.

With her heart aching and her sense of self-preservation _screaming_ at her for her idiocy, Rey began lighting the candles _again_. She found a billowing robe with a sapphire silk sash she cinched tightly around her waist, and with matching slippers to cover herself, she slipped out the chamber door carrying the candelabra. She had thought it would be easy to locate the source of the disturbance, but the echoing halls played tricks on her senses and she couldn’t make out a direction to follow.

Rey chose a path and went with it. Drafts blew through shattered windows and her robe fluttered in the breeze, sending chills through her quaking frame. Eventually she found her way to the same portrait hall she had browsed with Mr. Hux earlier in the evening. She held the candles up to the paintings as she passed, taking longer to appraise them unsupervised.

Rey stopped in front of the same young woman she had seen before. The girl was maybe the same age as Rey, around nineteen years. With thick plaited chestnut hair and a white off-the-shoulder evening gown, nearly forty years out of fashion, she was a radiant glimpse into the past. Rey was so enraptured she had forgotten her original intent in leaving her room. In the silence she stroked the girl’s cheek with a single finger.

_“Mother?”_

Rey spun, her hair swinging perilously close to the candles illuminating a floating face in the dark.

_“Mother!”_ The specter’s hands gripped Rey’s upper arms, shaking her with short jerks. “Have you come to haunt me now too, mother?”

In her panic, Rey paid no mind to the man’s stricken face, covered in tear tracks. “Let go of me!”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! Please mother!” His fingers were crushing her thin arms, preventing Rey from maneuvering away.

“I’M NOT YOUR MOTHER!” Rey jerked her free hand with all the strength she had and raked her nails across his face. Blood splattered across her hand and cheek, momentarily shocking both of them. And in that moment of disbelief, Rey liberated her other arm and began a mad dash down the hall. The silk slippers gave her no traction on the rugs and stones. She nearly fell as she skidded around every corner. The front door appeared ahead. She could hear somebody calling out to her, but she didn’t turn to see which man was giving chase. She nearly dropped her candelabra trying to undo the bars and bolts on the door one handed.

She threw the door open and there was white.

Nothing but white.

The light dusting of snow from hours earlier had devolved into a raging blizzard, with over a foot of snow already packed against the door and the rest of the world blotted out by white whirls. It would be impossible to escape now, or in the morning, or maybe even longer if the storm continued.

A hand gently clasped her elbow, but Rey threw her fist at a chest without stopping to see who the recipient may be.

“Please! Miss Smith!” Rey’s fist clipped Mr. Hux’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry that he frightened you. But please!” He gripped her a little more firmly, “Please let me escort you back to your room.”

“He’s mad!”

“He’s unwell!” Hux protested. “He needs help. I know this must be distressing, but with the storm, you have no choice but to stay here.”

A numb shock settled through Rey’s limbs. She really had no choice. She began shaking her head anyway.

Mr. Hux softened his already gentle tone further, “You needn’t worry about him.” He pulled a jangling ring of keys from his night robe’s pocket and removed a shining brass key, pressing it into her palm without removing his hand. “You may lock the door from the inside. I will be just down the hall if you need anything.” As he slipped his hand from hers, Rey felt well and truly trapped for the first time in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe all of the kudos and subscribers! Thanks guys <3  
> I couldn't wait to post another chapter, but from now on updates will be slower. (Can you guys guess who Nanny is based on?)


	3. Chapter 3

Ben realized his mistake as soon as his blood splattered in small flecks across the girl’s face. In the instant of shocked stillness that followed, he really saw her for the first time through his agitated state. She obviously wasn’t his mother. Smaller nose, wider jaw, tan and freckled in a manner Leia never would have allowed. The girl’s hazel eyes were wide in disbelief. Drops of garnet were already starting to drip, almost black in the candlelight.

Then she ran.

And he did not follow.

Ben rarely slept now, at least not properly, but he spent the rest of the night tormented for entirely new reasons. Hux had found him shortly after the incident and led him back to his rooms, explaining that a traveler had been caught in the storm and would be staying for a night or two. Nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t need to see her again. No need for further undue stress in his delicate condition. Regardless of whether he’d see her again, visions of the girl plagued him through the night. Images of her, Leia, and Padme merged and separated and merged again in his mind, cradled him in their collective lap, weeping bloody tears on his face like Mary wept over Jesus.

*

Without a valet, Ben wasn’t entirely sure how to dress himself. This hadn’t been a problem when he was laying in bed or creeping through an empty castle alone, but now there was someone to witness his disarray and he tried his best. He shaved for the first time in a week and donned a frock coat, boots as well of course.

He found her in the first salon at the front of the house. She rose immediately and seemed to vacillate between curtsying and running. With Ben’s large frame blocking the door, she settled on a shallow curtsy, never taking her eyes off him. Specifically, she was eyeing the fresh wound bisecting his cheek and brow. They continued to stand awkwardly until he realized he hadn’t bowed. That should’ve been the first thing he did, before she had even had a chance to curtsy. But this entire situation was so unusual. Two people of opposite sexes, differing ranks, but without someone to introduce them or the relationship of employer and employee to give it any more clarity.

Finally, he bowed, “Excuse me, Miss-?”

“Rey Smith.” She replied.

_Rey_ , just thinking her given name within the safety of his own head felt insolent, but he couldn’t help himself. “Miss Smith. Please excuse the unconventionality of these introductions,” he cleared his throat, “but I am Ben Solo.” She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but otherwise remained silent and standing. Ben jolted forward, embarrassed, “Please, please sit.” Slowly, hesitantly, she lowered herself to the edge of an icy blue settee. The wallpaper had once been a similar color, but time had faded it to a dull gray, making the bright fabric stand out against the gray room and gray-clad woman sitting on it. If she even was a grown woman; she was so small, frail, _young_ , he felt like an absolute brute for manhandling her the night before. The silence filled the room, suffocating him, he wanted to pull at his collar, even in the chilly atmosphere. Ben had to practically sit on his hands to keep from fidgeting. “I-“

“Oh!” Rey bent forward to scoop up the round cat that had waddled into the room. “Hello dear.” She flipped Nanny onto his back and massaged her fingers through the thick fur on his chest. Her bright doe eyes shyly looked up at him from under her lashes, “She’s very sweet.”

_She is…_ “H-he. He is a he, actually.” The cat in question laid limply in her arms, neither purring nor objecting to her ministrations.

“Nanny is an awfully odd name for a boy don’t you think? Have you ever heard of a male nanny?”

“I have not.” Ben cleared his throat, “I was a child when I named him. Maybe I thought he was female at first and discovered otherwise. I can’t recall.”

“A child?” Her brows furrowed at him, “But you must be at least five and twenty?”

“I am thirty years old. And Nanny is twenty I believe.”

“Twenty!” Rey clutched the cat to her chest, “I’ve never heard of such a thing. He and I are the same age.”

Ben was unsure of how to respond and remained silent. Without the cat as a topic, they both seemed unsure of how to proceed. _An apology_. He needed to apologize. “Miss Smith, about last night-“

“OH no need Mr. Solo!” She waved her hands frantically for a beat, “Mr. Hux explained everything.”

He wasn’t sure how that was possible considering Hux wasn’t even aware of the full extent of his myriad issues. “Even so, I really must apologize.” He let out a deep breath, sure there was more he needed to say, but hesitant to verbally relive the events of the previous night.

“I’m sorry too,” She blurted. “for um…” she motioned to her cheek.

“Don’t be. I uh, I deserved it.” Rather than protest, she merely nodded and looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. “Have you had breakfast yet Miss Smith?” She shook her head in the negative. “Would you let me escort you to the kitchen?” She didn’t respond, just stood and waited for him. Ben rose to his feet and crossed the small room to offer his arm.

Rey moved to take his elbow, her hand paused a hair’s breadth away, and then grasped him. Even through his coat he could feel the warmth of her skin. Her touch was obviously perfunctory, but it had been so long since someone had voluntarily touched him, Ben couldn’t help but revel in the feeling. If they were more familiar, he could have rested his hand over hers as they walked, but he restrained himself, basking in the small ray of warmth radiating against his side.

It was only as they arrived at the kitchen that Ben realized he had no idea what they would eat. There was no proper breakfast to offer. He paused in the entryway. Ben wasn’t sure if Rey followed his train of thought, but it didn’t matter. She let go of his arm and silently crossed to the storeroom, disappearing into the dark. She reemerged with a loaf of bread and two pears. They were set down on a counter and she searched the larder before returning with a butter dish. She began opening cupboards and drawers until she found plain tin plates and a knife. The loaf was divided into slices and distributed evenly between two plates. Finally, she carried the plates, pears, and butter to a worktable on the far end of the kitchen and sat on one of the high stools. Her feet braced on the slat between the stool legs, unable to reach the floor.

Throughout all of this, Ben had stood awkward and dumbfounded in the kitchen doorway incapacitated by his own privileged past. The past several weeks he had been living like an animal, taking bites straight from the bread loaves and breaking cheese with his hands. For all his upbringing, he felt like an uncivilized child compared to this young wisp of a girl. He took the seat across the table from her, scared to sit too close. His feet lay flat on the floor.

They ate in silence and despite avoiding eye contact, Ben kept stealing glances at her profile. It’s hard to imagine eating a pear ravenously, but somehow Rey was managing it. She didn’t slurp or chew with her mouth open, but she ate quickly, hunched in on herself, with juices dripping down the corner of her pink lips and trailing the curve of her jaw. She met his eyes. _Damn._ She had caught him staring.

“Would you like employment?”

Her eyebrows shot up and then furrowed, “Excuse me?”

“Would you like to be the cook here?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Can you bake bread?” She nodded. “Then that’s good enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I knew what I wanted to happen plot-wise, but couldn't figure out how to get there. Then Ben's POV saved the day! Dark_Magnolia you were correct that Nanny is BB-9E. Nanny. Nine-E. Dumb I know.  
> Also, related to what I just said, I have the plot mapped out, but if you want to send suggestions for any fluffy, romantic, or sexual scenes feel free to. I'd love to try to fit in requests. ;)
> 
> Some cool info I discovered while researching,  
> "Always introduce the gentleman to the lady never the lady to the gentleman. The chivalry of etiquette assumes that the lady is invariably the superior in right of her sex, and that the gentleman is honoured in the introduction. This rule is to be observed even when the social rank of the gentleman is higher than that of the lady."   
> Rey is automatically superior.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished this chapter and immediately posted it so please excuse any mistakes <3

Rey almost hadn’t accepted his offer.

As if the events of the previous evening wouldn’t have been enough to drive her away; Mr. Solo’s intense observation of her throughout the morning should have been. A deep primal part of her screamed to leave this place, these men, and brave the blizzard. But the practical side that bought gray dresses and sturdy boots, that side reminded her that men can be reasoned with (or fought), but she wouldn’t survive an amoral blizzard. And if she turned down the position and left as soon as the snow let up, what then? Would she find work in the nearby town? Would there be any work? No, as foolish as it probably was, she’d stay in this crumbling manor until things went south and then run away if she needed to. Maybe take some silver spoons with her.

So she had said yes and Mr. Solo had given her a curt nod, promising that Mr. Hux would discuss pay and any other accommodations with her. Once they had finished their meal he stood and presented his arm again, offering to give her a brief tour of the manor. He said _manor_ , as if the place wasn’t a dilapidated castle with some wallpaper and velvet drapery slapped on. As if a few modern luxuries would make the place a home rather than the setting of a penny dreadful. There was probably a crypt full of corpses below her feet right then. Correction, _definitely_ a crypt full of corpses below her. She’d bet her boots on it.

When entering from the front door, a turn to the right would take her to the salon she’d visited previously and eventually the wing of the castle containing her bedroom. A turn to the left would eventually lead to the kitchen. But if she continued through the center double doors, they’d open to reveal a square ballroom. Probably a grand hall once, it now had tiled marble floors and dark wooden pillars leading to balconies that exited onto the second floor.

The short heels of Rey’s black leather boots echoed in the vacuous hall. She glanced up, then craned her neck to see a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging above them. She glimpsed Mr. Solo and saw he had the hint of a smile on his long face. Probably amused by her gawking Rey thought. She snapped her head forward and tried to appear unaffected, but she felt a hot rush of blood to her cheeks regardless. Maybe he wouldn’t notice; the room was unusually dark. Modern architecture had massive glass windows to let in natural light, but this room obviously hadn’t been intended for that originally. No security in a castle with glass doors and a patio for cooling off after a dance.

Mr. Solo led her out back doors at the opposite end of the chamber and down a hallway that would eventually bisect with the living quarters. They had been walking in silence for so long that Rey startled when he pulled her to a stop outside a plain wooden door. She likely would never have given it a second glance if it weren’t for his next words.

“As an employee,” he cleared his throat, “as the _only_ employee, I’ll be giving you a set of keys. The majority of these bedroom doors are capable of being unlocked by a single skeleton key. An old blackened iron one. You’ll recognize it when you see it.” He turned to look her in the eyes and braced both of her biceps in his hands. _They were so large._ “I ask that you not open this door only. It is my private study, you see, and it is the one place I’d like left sacrosanct. I may ask you to bring meals to my room if I’m not feeling well, so don’t feel afraid to enter my chambers or approach me if you need to. But please leave my study alone.” She nodded. “Do you understand?”

“Yes Mr. Solo.” He visibly relaxed, his eyes softening and his hands going lax on her arms. She hadn’t realized just how tense he was until the pressure had left her. He curved his right arm up so that she was able to take it again and they continued past the unassuming door.

As they walked, Rey observed him in what she hoped was a subtle manner. The cheek facing her had a long, jagged gash running over his cheekbone and past his brow. Smaller lines paralleled the stroke, but it was the center that was swollen and crusted with black blood. It ached just to look at.

Rey had needed to scrub the skin and blood from beneath her nails the night before.

They arrived at a set of tall arched windows with grisaille creating diamonds throughout the glass. The midday sun was obscured by the blizzard still raging outside. In the distance a dark silhouette could be made out.

Mr. Solo pointed to it, “That is the manor’s chapel. And directly behind it is the family graveyard.” Rey squinted and leaned forward, recognizing tall thin figures that were most likely statues of saints and angels. They looked skeletal in the blinding white. _What if they were skeletons?_ That seemed just the sort of macabre melodrama this house catered to.

Suddenly the arm her hand had rested on disappeared from beneath her, leaving her fingers feeling cold and exposed without gloves in the frigid stone halls. Her companion’s pale face lost what color remained and took on a sickly hue.

“Please excuse me Miss Smith, I-“ he abruptly turned and disappeared around a corner. Rey stood there dumbfounded and contemplating following him when she heard retching from nearby. She followed.

And found him hunched against the wall, dry heaving.

It was foolish, and definitely not her responsibility as a cook, but she took him by the elbow and began to _gently_ drag him back the way they had come.

“Come along Mr. Solo. I’ll help you back to your rooms,” she said. They approached an intersection and Rey waited for direction before proceeding. They continued making slow progress in this manner until they arrived at a door in a hallway they had not previously toured. The door was blessedly unlocked and she turned down the brass handle before pushing it open.

Immediately a putrid stench and cloying air engulfed her senses. Rey resisted covering her mouth and sat Mr. Solo on the edge of his bed. There were several buckets scattered across the floor and she grabbed an empty one at random, shoving it into his hands. She stepped back and took in the room.

It was just as grand as her room had been. Obviously meant for residents and not guests. The most striking differences were the demolished curtains, the shattered wooden pillar at one corner of the bed, broken glass spread across the dresser, and a thick layer of dust and grime coating every surface. This wasn’t normal neglect and decay, but intentional destruction presumably caused by the current occupant.

“How long ago did you let the staff go?” she asked.

His voice resonated from inside the bucket he had his face stuffed in, “A fortnight I think.”

“Hm.” Rey turned back out the door.

*

About an hour later, Rey had returned with a pile of rags and bucket of scalding hot water. At some point during her absence, Mr. Solo had removed his boots and coat and crawled under his bedcovers. He probably hadn’t expected her to return.

She began a circuit around the room, wiping as much of the loose dust as she could off of the horizontal surfaces. She couldn’t reach the cobwebs in the corners and the lack of intact furnishing meant that it took her fairly little time; just enough for the water to become a bearable temperature. She opened the curtains, to her employer’s obvious dismay, and beat the curtains as well as she could with her hands. _If only the window could be opened._ After waiting a few moments for the dust to settle, Rey dumped a bit of the hot water onto the stone flooring on the far side of the room under the window. She was surprised there were no rugs in this room, but wouldn’t complain. It made her job easier. She dipped a clean rag in the water, then lowered herself onto her hands and knees to begin scrubbing.

She had worked her way to the other side of the centered bed when Mr. Solo finally broke the silence, “Miss Smith,” his usually soft voice wasn’t particularly deep in the first place, but it now had a husky edge to it. _Maybe from the retching?_ Rey looked back at him over her shoulder, but he avoided eye contact, firmly focused on the canopy above him. “Please excuse me, but you have a very unique accent. Where exactly are you from?”

She had hoped to avoid these questions. At least until she had thought of a better story. But really, he didn’t seem like he’d care much about her unsavory beginnings. And she had never really learned to lie.

“My parents were English,” she began, “but I was raised in America. Specifically, California.” _Hopefully that would suffice._

“Oh really?” she had piqued his interest and now he watched her from his reclined position, “What did your father do?”

Rey resisted a groan and sat back on her heels, but still didn’t turn her body to him. “I don’t know sir. I was taken to a foundling hospital when I was six years old and I don’t remember a great deal from before then.” Now she was the one avoiding eye contact, keeping her eyes downcast at the half-scrubbed floor.

“Taken? Who took you to the orphanage?”

This. This was the embarrassing part of the story. The painful part. “A barmaid. My parents had apparently left me with her and hadn’t returned.” She didn’t turn to see his reaction.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey is obviously already totally over how ridiculous this house and all of its occupants are. How long do you guys think Ben was staring at her ass before he just had to say something?
> 
> Fun fact, Charles Manson's mom did trade him to a waitress for beer, but the waitress gave him back.
> 
> Thank you to everybody that commented and left kudos! They really motivate me to stop procrastinating. <3


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